The new house is narrow and three stories high and furnished with not much more than a baby grand piano.
Other than sitting on the piano bench and looking out through french doors at the garden I am still at a loss — the household goods passed customs but have not yet been released to our care.
I have urgent deadlines predicated on work that cannot be completed without my other computer, bored children who want their rooms back, and a traveling husband who keeps ending up in the emergency room.
I miss my friends and my mother. Though my opinion is that they should all just follow me here.
When I unpacked the suitcases I found another set of random mix tapes that seem to consist almost entirely of the music I listened to in 1985. The current theme song is What Difference Does it Make?
Internet access is once again sketchy, so if you are expecting email, please pardon my silence.